A Tourist's New York
by westpoints
Summary: [complete] New York City, coffee, chocolate, Chad, Sharpay, two Taylor's, and old love. Oh, and the word 'absconded.' Chadpay, background other couples.


"A Tourist's New York"  
by TehFuzzyPenguin

Disclaimer: Disney's. All of it.

* * *

Of course, New York's fabulousness is a given. People cite Broadway, the art museums, Rockefeller Plaza, the Empire State Buildings, Saks Fifth Avenue, Serendipity's. Stuff you can't find in a place like Albuquerque. Sharpay Evans is aware of all this. After a few years of living there, though, she's become enamored with the more prevalent parts.

A Starbucks occupies every...single...block of midtown Manhattan. Sharpay is in the habit of grabbing a latte from the one on Broadway and 51st, right outside the Gershwin, but one day she got off too early from the subway, and now she's in the 7th Avenue and 42nd, impatiently waiting for the unfamiliar barista to get to her order.

She receives her triple-shot-espresso, no foam, skim milk, cinnamon-seasoned vanilla latte the same time as another customer, and through a completely unhumorous exchange, downs a mouthful of hot chocolate before she realizes what she's put in her body.

She swallows painfully and looks around for the culprit who has absconded with her _real_ coffee.

A voice says, "Here, I think I got your drink by mistake." A steaming cup is thrust in her face, and she gladly exchanges hers, taking an experimental sip to make sure that it's the right one. The milk isn't skim, and the cinnamon isn't as fresh as she'd like, but it will wash the thick taste of overly-sweet chocolate out of her mouth this early in the day.

"Thanks," she mutters, looking up to glower at her drink-stealer. Recognition makes her smile. "Regressing to the fifth grade, Danforth?"

"How can you drink coffee?" Chad asks in return, as though they haven't just seen each other for the first time in several years.

"I'm a mature adult," she replies, and quickly stalks out of the store to get to Gershwin in time for warm-ups and make-up. Her heart sort of tugs inside her chest, but she puts that down to typical pre-show nerves.

She tells Taylor, her usual latte boy, about this entire exchange the next day. They're friends. He says, "I'm not your hairdresser," but smiles anyway.

"You're just mad because you think I'm seeing another latte boy." Sharpay looks around carefully before confiding, "She had greasy hair and too many piercings, if that helps."

"Immensely. Break a leg." He gives her the correct order, fresh cinnamon and all, and everything is right with the world.

**.**

**.  
**

After matinee performances, Sharpay makes a point to stop by the Europa Café at Times Square (there are 11 in Manhattan alone) for a slice of chocolate mousse cake. It reminds her that unlike most people in the United States, she can eat sinfully good dessert without guilt.

She's there a few days later when she spots a very familiar face devouring a fudge brownie. She decides to indulge herself.

"You and your chocolate, Danforth." He raises his eyebrows at her own selection.

"I can't order from Albuquerque. Doesn't taste the same. I'm getting as much as I can while I'm here."

"You're still in Albuquerque?"

"Can't stay away," he says, and they both pretend that it's a normal thing for them to talk about after not seeing each other for several years. "Contracts," he explains, when she's about to ask why he's here. "My agent thinks a New York apartment is classy. I come here once or twice a year."

"To eat chocolate?"

"Mostly." A few awkward seconds lapse, and he asks, "How are you?"

"I'm just fine," she answers quickly. "You look good," she continues, trying to make up for the lost rhythm. "I think I recognize that tie," she finishes weakly.

"You probably do, I—"

"Sorry, Chad, I have to go," Sharpay interrupts. "I have an evening performance today." She quickly stands and smooths out her jacket. "Bye," and leaves without another word.

"Guess who I saw today?" Sharpay says to Taylor later.

"Mystery Latte Thief?"

"That's a good name."

"I know."

"I wish he would stop showing up at the places I love to go to."

"If you would stop going to tourist-trap places, he wouldn't." He grew up with three sisters. He knows what to say. Sharpay sometimes wonders if he's gay, but Ryan says he isn't.

She rolls her eyes. She loves the tourist-trap places in New York. They're what make New York New York. "But they're all, like, five minutes away. I don't want to walk any further."

"You need the exercise."

"No I don't."

"Then pretend you do," he says, but he doesn't really mean it.

After all, in New York, Starbucks is a tourist trap, too.

**--**

Au Bon Pain is like Panera, except you can only find it in the very major cities of the world. Both serve soups in bread bowls, but only in a city like Boston, where cold and wind creep up randomly during April as well as November, can a hot soup really be appreciated.

There are about fifty Au Bon Pain's in New York City and no Panera's. On some cold days, Sharpay sits in one and orders a clam chowder in a bread bowl. She scrapes the bread off the bowl, leaving only the crust and letting the bread soak up as much as possible until the chowder is a viscous lava-like mess. And then she eats the whole thing, even dismantling the crispy crust and eating that.

Sometimes, yogurt parfaits just aren't enough.

She's waiting to order for lunch the next day when she spots Chad a few people back in line. She rolls her eyes and groans, but sits down anyway with her bread bowl, and grimaces when Chad gets his cinnamon bun and joins her.

"Stalking me now?" she asks.

"You make it really easy." He pulls off a section of the roll and pops it in his mouth. "About yesterday. Sorry I didn't get to say good—"

"By the way," Sharpay interrupts again. "I'm doing much...much better." They both pretend that they're referring only to yesterday. She finishes scraping the bread off the bowl and stirs her chowder. "I was just a little...under the weather," she says, the cliché grating on her ears, which is what she intends.

"Well it's good. I mean, that you feel better. You look good."

"Thanks," she forces herself to say. "I like your hair short, by the way." His pride and glory hair is shorn. It curls only a few scant inches from his scalp. She doesn't like it, to tell the truth, but she reaches across the table to touch it, just to make sure what little is left is still there. "I never could get it out of your face."

"I got it cut after high school. And I guess I've never grown it back since."

"Evidently." They eat in silence for a few minutes. Sharpay checks her watch. "I'm not sorry, Chad, but I have a performance tonight, too, so I need to go now." She leaves the bowl crust with him.

"I seriously do think he's stalking me," she says to Taylor.

"Do you want him to?"

"No."

"What's the story with him, anyway?" Taylor asks, sitting across from her. Sharpay had lied to Chad; she still has thirty minutes before she needs to show up, so she stops by with her favorite latte boy.

"It's not important. It's just...a shock. Seeing him here. It's like. It's like nothing's changed since high school, and everything's changed. And we talked about things that changed like they haven't."

"You haven't changed. Not since I've known you." She's known him since she was swing ensemble in _The Lion King_, many years ago.

"We talked about the ways he's changed, then. We talked...even the way we talk changed."

"So? He's a high school friend. He's in New York. You hang out in tourist-trap restaurants and cafés." Taylor smiles. "Maybe it's just a coincidence."

"Well, what if it is? Doesn't he care that everything's changed? Doesn't he ever miss me in his Albuquerque life?"

"Do you seriously miss him in your New York life?"

"_No_. I never really liked him, anyway."

"It only hurts when you breathe?"

Sharpay laughs. "Hardly."

"That's the Sharpay I know. Hey, the next time you run into him?"

"Yeah?"

"Invite him out somewhere. Somewhere not tourist-trappy."

"I'm not delirious."

"No, really. Invite him out, have a few drinks, seriously catch up with each other. Have fun. And then don't ever think about him again."

"We weren't like _that_, Taylor."

"Sure you weren't."

Sharpay teases, "Jealous?" He rolls his eyes.

"Have a good show," Taylor says, reminding her that she's due for make-up. She looks a little tired. He's a bit worried about this Chad, but knows that Sharpay won't do anything stupid. Though he's not sure what constitutes as "stupid" in her world.

**--**

Chad shows up at the stage door the next day, after the matinee performance. He's standing by her car, actually. She wonders how he figured to follow the diehard fans. Sharpay poses with Michelle for camera, signs autographs, receives a gift of a pink teddy bear, kisses some cheeks. Michelle says she'll see Sharpay later, and leaves. Sharpay makes it to her Mercedes without any eye contact with Chad, and almost closes the door before he's inside with her.

Lincoln raises his eyebrows, and she shakes her head, telling him to just drive her to the Marriott like always.

"Moonlighting as a rabid fangirl today, Danforth?"

"I live for excitement."

She fiddles with her purse while Lincoln navigates them through five city blocks to get to the giant parking structure at the Marriott. She pays him, and Chad leaves with her to walk the streets of New York.

"In case you haven't noticed, you're following me," she finally says, when she's nearing 42nd Street.

"You've been avoiding me."

"This is a big city. And I have a job."

"I know. I saw it. Lottery front-row ticket."

"Have you become a civilized patron of musical theater?"

"No."

"Creep."

"Can't we just be nice?"

"I haven't changed that much, Danforth." She stops at the subway entrance. "What are you doing tomorrow night?"

"Nothing special."

"Let's have a drink. I won't bite," she assures. But she smiles.

"Where?" She writes down the address.

"Take a taxi. Wait for me outside at 8."

"Why can't we go now?" he asks, his sudden initiative startling both of them.

"I just belted for two and a half hours. I'm a professional, but even that is pretty damn exhausting. Me and Michelle are getting massages together tonight."

"You're friends?"

"Shocking, I know, that I have friends. But yes." She descends the stairs in a way that completely rejects his company.

**--**

Tavern on the Green, as Taylor demands, can only be found in New York, on West 67th Street. Traditionally, Broadway opening night parties are held at Sardi's, but nonconformists tend towards this place. Sharpay is a regular at both. She has friends in almost every production; no opening night party begins without Sharpay Evans. She decides on the Tavern on the Green because somehow, Sardi's is feeling a little too showbiz.

Tonight, there is no opening night party, and Sharpay has gone without her usual coffee; she had a dentist appointment that day. She forgot that she was meeting for drinks until after she'd gotten her teeth clean, and at that point, coffee is out of question. Flipping her hair resignedly, she leads Chad inside. He whistles at the upstairs bar.

"Last I was in a place this nice was in Paris."

"You went to Paris?" Sharpay stops at a small table, which, by some tacit understanding with the waiter, she is allowed to have. Two glasses of wine are brought presently. "When?"

"Three years ago. With Taylor." Her first thought is her latte boy, but that seems a little absurd.

"McKessie?" she ventures, when her memory throws up a name. She is tempted to drain her glass now, but manages to control herself to make it last another two minutes.

"Mmhmm."

"Why do I have a urge to say honeymoon?" She smiles when he nods. "Don't you know that Paris honeymoons aren't in anymore? All the cool kids go to Rome now."

"Troy and Gabriella went to Paris," Chad says, as though in defense.

"Ah. When Troy says jump... I thought you two hated each other?"

He laughs. "We still do."

"That's a really bad joke."

"You're right."

"But it's good. That you're married and all. Tell her I said hello." A waiter appears two more glasses of wine, which neither of them specifically ordered. Sharpay nods in thanks, and takes one. Chad has no choice but to take the other. "On second thought," she says after taking a sip, "don't. That would be weird."

"Not that it's ever stopped you before."

"I've developed this thing called tact. Obviously, yours hasn't grown in yet."

"Well, I'll tell her that I saw you. Anything else?"

She thinks about it. Swirls her wine around in her mouth, swallows. "Tell her...tell her my life is going just as I planned."

"That's good."

"Yeah. I'm going to London next year, actually, after my contract here is up. They want me for an American character. Should be fun. If I ever run into you again, I'll show you the pictures. Tell you all about it. I might even have a British accent, though that would ruin my part."

They don't talk about much after that. He knows she's a Broadway star now, and she knows he's playing basketball, negotiating contracts like she is, only for different things. There really isn't much to discuss, except for the marriage, and that's off limits. Sharpay knows that they won't last, that they're too alike in the wrong ways to make it. She doesn't trust herself to keep that a secret.

She doesn't know why she would keep that a secret from him, but she won't investigate that.

"I missed you," Chad says, when they're walking through Times Square.

Sharpay pauses. "I thought we said we'd never say those three words to each other. Ever."

"Well, I did." He doesn't expect her to say it back, so she doesn't. "I'm glad I saw you."

"It's good to see me." But she smiles. "When are you leaving?"

"Day after tomorrow."

"Well. Bring Mrs. Danforth something from Café Europa. Say it's from me if it tastes weird."

"Are you offering to poison her?"

She looks at him, in the light from the thousands of billboards. "Don't, Chad." She means _don't tempt me_, like a joke. Or maybe just _don't do this_, and not a joke. He smiles, and she guesses he picks the first meaning.

**--**

"So, what happened then?" Taylor her latte boy asks the next day, when she's talking to him in a secluded corner.

"Nothing. Nothing happened." She frowns. "Should something have happened?"

"He says he misses you. He sat through one of your performances. He's _married_, and he sounded like he was ready to give it up for you. So he does care."

"So?"

"So he's leaving tomorrow! Do something...I don't know, do something girly. Follow your chick flick instincts. Make Julia Roberts proud!"

Sharpay shakes her head. "I love you, Taylor."

"I love you, too, Sharpay."

"But you're not really helping."

"Sorry."

"It's okay." For a second, it looks like she's about to say something else, something about Chad. "Hey, Michelle and I have tickets to opening night for _Overkill_. You want to come with?" Taylor hesitates. She launches into a personal ad, trying to lighten the mood. "I'm a great date, I swear. No drinking in the limo, and I smile nice for the camera. No embarrassing secrets. Celebrity treatment. I'm sure you clean up good, too. It'll be fun. Imagine the tabloid covers. Sharpay Evans's Mystery Man Rumored to be Siberian Prince. Are you Siberian?"

"That's it? That's all you're going to do about your Latte Thief?"

She ignores him, and says, "We can even leave sober after the party at Sardi's so you can come to work on time the next day."

Taylor shrugs, because if Sharpay is over it, she's over it. She even looks better today, though she only had five hours of sleep. "Sure."

The good thing about Taylor, Sharpay finds, is that he loves tourist-trap places just as much as she does. And he doesn't drink hot chocolate.

-end-

* * *

**A/N:** You see that? That part in the middle and end, with Sharpay being all _nice_? That was me trying to give her a soul. It turned out horribly, and I promise I'll never do it again. I promise, too, to never pair Chad and Taylor together again.

Oh, and Chad's dislike for coffee is totally stolen from **StarVitamin**, though I can't remember where I read it. She's a genius for random character traits like that.


End file.
